


Aziraphale's Fantasy

by Dusty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chapter two is when it all comes true, Crowley's not sure, Humour, Idiots in Love, Just agreeing the roleplay, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Pouting, Rape Fantasy, Safe Sane and Consensual, Service Top, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens), but he will do anything for his angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty/pseuds/Dusty
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley discuss a little game they want to play, like the idiots they are.





	1. Chapter 1

‘Let’s go through it one last time,’ said Crowley, checking his sunglasses for smears. 

Aziraphale clapped his hands together. ‘So, like we agreed, I’m the kindly bookshop owner…’

‘...very imaginative.’

‘...and you are a dangerous thief who has come to steal the Babylonian Talmud, and I try to stop you. Of course, I would guard it with my life.’

‘Right.’

‘But you are brutish and you overwhelm me, brutishly.’

Crowley put his sunglasses back on. ‘Naturally,’ he said.

‘You retrieve the manuscript, but decide to defile me before you leave as punishment for my interference’.

‘ _ Defile _ you?’ imitated Crowley.

‘Yes.’

Crowley gazed at his angel. Hopeless ethereal bastard. He looked over at the valuable books, sitting in a glass case with a lock. 

‘So this Babylonian Talmud…’

‘There are only 14 complete sets in the world,’ said Aziraphale, proudly. 

‘Really?’ asked Crowley, genuinely impressed. ‘How come you have one?’

‘I… saved it.’

You  _ saved _ it?

‘From someone who meant to destroy it! They kept saying it was blasphemous and should be burned. I rescued it.’

Crowley folded his arms. ‘You stole it?’

‘I stole it back!’

‘You  _ stole _ it.’

‘I saved it!’

‘Whatever.’ Crowley let it go and thought for a moment. ‘So I come to get the Talmud, and you try to stop me.

‘Yes.’

‘And then just as I’m about to leave with it, I bend you over and have my way with you.’

Aziraphale’s eyes clouded over. ‘Um, yes, please.’

‘ _ Yes, please _ ?’ mocked Crowley. 

‘Oh don’t be unkind!’ complained Aziraphale. 

‘Sorry. And then you want me to up and leave as soon as I’m finished...’

‘Yes.’

‘Sure? What about you?’

‘Oh, it’s not about me. I’m the innocent in this.’

Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Oh sure, never an impure thought, never a lusty desire. Poor bookshop owner, only knows passion for the written word, no interest in the pleasures of the flesh...’

Aziraphale cleared his throat as Crowley continued.

‘....could only have sexual relations if forced on him against his will by some villainous brute who only thinks of their own gratification.’

‘Crowley,’ warned the angel.

Crowley smirked. ‘Don’t worry. I know what to do.’ He peered over the shades. ‘What’s the safeword?’

‘Tadfield.’

‘Good.’

‘And you can hit me - hard, if you like. I’ll be fine.’

Crowley scowled, trying not to visibly recoil from the idea. ‘I will overpower you, angel. In my own way,’ he brazened out.

‘Ohhh,’ Aziraphale intoned, reddening. ‘How..terrible.’

‘Make sure you’re all, you know, ready for me.’

The angel shrugged. ‘I'm sure I don’t know what you mean, foul fiend!’

Crowley grimaced. ‘Oh fuck me, this is going to be like shagging Paul Daniels.’

‘Crowley!’ shouted Aziraphale, deteriorating into a pout. 

‘Sorry, angel,’ said the demon kindly. ‘But, don’t ham it up so much. It’s roleplay not panto.’

The pout continued. Crowley took off his shades and forced eye contact, mimicking the pout back at his angel. He leaned in and gently kissed the protruding lower lip. ‘Just be you. That’s all I want.’

Aziraphale blushed and smiled sweetly. Crowley made for the door to get into position.

‘Crowley, you will remember to keep the sunglasses on, won’t you?’

‘Yessss,’ hissed Crowley before closing the door behind him.


	2. The Roleplay's The Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon attempt to act out Aziraphale's fantasy from chapter 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is smutty as fuck. We humans are extremely easily embarrassed. We must write our pornography... that's it, that's the sentence.

Aziraphale sat at his desk, back straight and shoulders back, sporting his nifty reading glasses. He opened his large desk diary at today’s date, and was thinking about constructing a sentence about dusting the True Crime section, when the front door swung open.

A very dubious individual snaked into the shop and locked the doors behind him. 

Aziraphale felt a tingle in every single chakra. 

‘Bookseller,’ said the tall intruder, who was clearly up to no good behind his dark glasses. ‘Bring me the Babylonian Talmud and no one gets hurt.’

The angel stood valiantly, and with a flourish, removed his reading glasses. ‘No! Those texts are not for sale and they are certainly not for you, whoever you are.’

The sinister miscreant shrugged and walked towards the locked glass cases and first editions. ‘Don’t mind if I help myself?’ he taunted. 

Aziraphale dashed to defend the valuable manuscript, throwing himself between the sacred texts and the dreadful, unsavoury character, protecting them with his life. 

Crowley smirked. He scooped up the angel with a touch of miracled strength and threw him over his shoulder. With a snap of his fingers, the glass case in which the Talmud was nestled disappeared, and the demon helped himself to the texts, tucking them under his arm.

‘Put me down!’ squawked an upside-down Aziraphale, slapping Crowley’s rear in protest and kicking his legs out. The demon ignored him and went over to the desk, throwing the Talmud down roughly, before setting Aziraphale down, equally roughly. He glared daggers at the angel.

‘I’ll teach you to mess with me, bookseller,’ hissed Crowley, who was starting to enjoy himself quite a bit. He spun the angel around, and taking his hands in his own, forced him to bend over the desk until he was face down on the mahogany surface. 

He stood, keeping the  _ bookseller _ in place with one hand, and landed half a dozen swats on his behind with the other. ‘That’s for smacking me, you little shit. I’m a professional book thief. No one hits me!’ 

Aziraphale groaned loudly. It was a long, decadent chocolaty groan that started deep in his throat and ended up in Crowley’s pants. Everything tightened.

‘I’ll show you,’ growled Crowley, feeling menacing and dangerous and really liking it.

He reached under the angel and unfastened the trousers, tugging all frustrating material right down to his conquest’s ankles. The conquest moaned softly.

Crowley unzipped, and saw his angel rolling his hips. Peeking round, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was currently pressing his very hard cock into the open page in his leather bound desk diary.  _ Even better _ , thought Crowley.

He lined himself up, and sunk himself in, covering Aziraphale like a large black shell and pinning his wrists down again. Just like that they weren’t two beings anymore, but rather one frantic act of glorious, delicious evil. 

It felt too good. Coherence was evaporating. 

Crowley tried to stay in character. He moved his hand to the ancient manuscript. 

He leaned closer to murmur in Aziraphale’s ear. ‘Translate it for me while I have you,’ he sneered, thrusting quick and fast.

Aziraphale’s moans were more high pitched than Crowley had ever heard before. The angel’s hands reached for the back of the desk for something to hold on to. 

‘It’s a sacred holy text, I can’t!’ pleaded Aziraphale. ‘I won’t!’

Crowley groaned this time, and straightened up, clutching his  _ victim’s _ hips and fucking him like a jack rabbit. 

The angel spread his legs just a little wider and gripped the desk harder, his knuckles quite white. He keened at considerable volume. The demon quickly miracled sound proofing to prevent concerned passersby from investigating the murder-like screams coming from beneath him.

‘Oh FUCK!’ cried Crowley, now quite sure this was going to play out exactly as planned - with him  _ coming and going _ . Aziraphale squirmed under him and arched up for a brief moment, before Crowley pushed him hard back down and enveloped him with his own body once more. The angel’s hands returned to the back of the desk, holding on for dear life, with Crowley’s warm palms on top. It occurred to him the desk might break, the wooden legs grating against the floor in deep squeaks, but just like that, he really didn’t care. 

‘Stop, stop, you must stop!’ came Aziraphale's feeble call.

Crowley nipped the angel’s neck, before wrapping his arms around him. He pressed his cheek to Aziraphale's, so very close to him, and fucking him with all his strength. ‘No. I’m going to have you. I’m going to come inside you. And leave you. Serves you right.’

He seized the angel’s wrists. ‘You need to obey me,’ he warned with difficulty, his voice becoming higher, his thrusts harder. 

Aziraphale wailed like a siren, trapped as he was, helpless underneath his villain, his prick rubbing perfectly against something forbidden, something he couldn’t help. 

The pressure, the weight, the friction, and the  _ noises _ tore all semblance of reason from either of them. Crowley seeing his angel  _ that _ incoherent was taking him down. And by the sound of it they were going to fall over the edge together, loudly.

The angel shuddered first, by mere seconds, muffling his pleasure as best he could into the desk. Crowley collapsed on top of him, pulsing endlessly inside that luxurious heat. Neither one could move for some time. 

For a moment, Crowley forgot his part. On regaining his senses, he extracted himself, feeling oddly bereft, zipped back up and took the Talburd. His legs were like jelly, but he was a scoundrel, so he stuck to the script.

‘Don’t get in my way again, old man,’ jeered Crowley. He paused for a moment to take in the image - all pink and yellow, sprawled on the desk, semen seeping down his thigh, and a hefty deposit of his own ejaculate right in the middle of his diary. 

Crowley blinked at the vision, but was determined to exit calmly before his knees gave way.

He stood out on the street, one of the world’s most valuable texts under his arm like a free newspaper, and wondered how long he should give it before going back in. He instantly realised he was bored… and went back in. 

Aziraphale was still catching his breath, and still a hot mess of pink and yellow. He was fastening his trousers, seemingly unconcerned by Crowley opening the front door again. 

Crowley locked up for a second time and went to his angel. Aziraphale appeared cleaned up, suit pressed and bowtie just so, but the diary still had _evidence_. 

‘I should…’ started Aziraphale.

‘Leave it,’ said Crowley, with a leer and a wiggle. 

Aziraphale did not quite have enough energy left to shoot Crowley a chastising glare. Instead, they gravitated towards each other and enjoyed a restorative open-mouthed smooch, like a coffee at the end of a fine meal. They were both cloudy-eyed.

‘Well that was hot,’ said Crowley. ‘You went off like the 1812 overture.’

‘Yes, um. Thanks for the silencing miracle.’ 

Crowley watched as the low key anxiety started to rush back in to the angel. He tried to intersect it. ‘I like you saucy,’ he said smoothly. ‘Az-saucy-phale.’

‘Oh _good lord_ ,’ said Aziraphale, trying not to like it. 

‘Stop being so coy,’ chided the demon. ‘Saucy is  _ good _ . It was  _ good _ . Nothing wrong with good sex!’

Aziraphale looked a little dispirited. 

‘It’s okay, angel. We can do that any time you want, if that’s what you like.’

Aziraphale beamed. ‘Oh good,’ he whispered. ‘I suppose it’s your turn. Any fantasies we can... manufacture?’

Crowley sighed. ‘I’d quite like to sit down with a bottle of Malbec for now, but I’ll give it some thought.’

He winked at Aziraphale, and they wobbled towards the comfy chairs for a night of thoughts, ideas and wine.


End file.
